No Matter What
by teammccord
Summary: Elizabeth cooks (or tries to). Henry helps.
_A/N: I may have hit a new level of 'odd inspiration.' This is shamelessly cheesy, but here goes nothing. Also, a post 2x21 note, this is obviously pre-Pakistan. Thank you to Broadwayfreak5357 for the beta-ing, you made this whole process much easier! As always, reviews make me smile._

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It was six o'clock in the evening when Henry opened up the front door of their house. He'd had a fairly light day at the White House, and was happy to be able to come home to his children at a reasonable hour. The Murphy Station job was extremely important to him, and the work was never dull, but the hours were taxing — much like Elizabeth's. He was glad their children were older, and somewhat self-sufficient; it made them feel less guilty about having jobs that required possible availability twenty-four hours a day.

After closing the door behind him, Henry shed his jacket and shoes, and deposited his briefcase in the office before looking for his kids. He hadn't expected Elizabeth home yet, and so was pleasantly surprised to find her in the kitchen. She had her back to him and didn't notice him walking in, clearly focused on the various pots and pans surrounding her. She seemed to be cooking dinner, and Henry suppressed a chuckle. Elizabeth in the kitchen was bound to lead to a minor catastrophe, and she knew it. He loved her for still trying.

"Hi, babe," Henry called, and Elizabeth turned away from the cutting board to face him, knife in hand. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she set the knife on the counter as she cleared her throat.

"Hey," she managed, forcing a smile. Henry was immediately at her side, pulling her in for a hug, concern lacing his features.

"Baby, what happened? Are you okay?" he asked, rubbing soothing circles on her back. She pulled out of his embrace with a look of confusion on her face.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Elizabeth, I come home and you're crying in the kitchen. I'm worried about you! Did something happen today?" He was annoyed; she still occasionally bottled up her emotions, and pretended she was fine. But he knew she wasn't, and that talking would help her feel better. At this, Elizabeth broke out into a fit of laughter, and Henry was even more confused than before.

"Henry, I'm cutting onions!" she managed between giggles. "I'm fine!" She laughed harder at his deer in the headlights expression, and he soon joined in. She leant over to press a kiss to his lips, and smiled as she pulled away. "You wanna help with dinner? Or are you just gonna stare at me while I burn it?"

Henry headed over to the sink to wash his hands. "What are we making, babe?"

"Oh, I don't really know. I'm pulling things out of the fridge, but honestly, I'm hoping for a little miracle."

"Sounds delicious," he joked. "How's it going so far?"

"Well," she admitted, "we've got onions…" Henry laughed again and made his way through the cabinets himself, seeing if he would be struck by some inspiration. He was soon gathering things and placing them on the kitchen island, a plan forming in his mind.

"See, I knew you would do that," Elizabeth teased her husband, "swoop in here, see my total incompetence, and swoop out with a gourmet meal."

"Hence the onion chopping?" Henry quipped back. "Was it your plan to get out of cooking all along?"

"Saw right through me there, Professor. You're getting good at recognizing tradecraft." She laughed before continuing, smacking him on the arm lightly. "No, Henry, I really was gonna cook."

"Okay, babe."

"So what are we making, Dr. McCord?"

"Pasta with garlic and cherry tomatoes; secret ingredient—" He leant conspiratorially close to Elizabeth and whispered in her ear, "onions." This earned him another smack on the arm and he flinched in mock pain. "Ow! What was that for?"

"What was what for?"

Henry laughed and let out an exasperated sigh. His wife, brilliant as she was, was far too quick-witted to ever be tricked, and she knew it. He loved their banter, how he had to be on his toes constantly to keep up with her ever-working mind. "Just boil some water, would you please?"

"Sure thing, Captain." She whipped around and winked at Henry, raising her hand in a quick salute.

"Oorah," he answered, and winked back.

They worked silently for a little while, with Elizabeth cooking the pasta, and Henry chopping tomatoes and crushing garlic to add to the sauce. They would occasionally brush up against one another, smiling at the contact. It was so familiar, yet exciting and intimate all at the same time. Even after being together for nearly three decades, they never got tired of one another, of simply being, of sharing their lives. It was what made their relationship so special, and proved once again that they were two halves to a whole, moving totally in sync.

"Shit!" Elizabeth hissed as the scalding water hit her hand. She was trying to drain the pasta, and Henry had bumped into her from behind, causing her to spill some on herself. She rubbed her hand gingerly, and turned on the faucet to hold it under cold water. Correction, they were almost always in sync.

"I'm sorry baby," Henry said, clearly concerned. "How bad is it?"

"I'm gonna survive," she retorted, "but just barely." Contorting her face in mock agony for extra emphasis, she turned her head over to him.

"Anything I can do to make it better?" he asked, playing along.

"Kiss me, as I take my dying breath!"

He laughed and did just that, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close, crashing his lips to hers in a searing kiss. She responded with equal force, backing him up against the counter, as he tangled his hands in her hair. When they came up for air, cheeks flushed and breathing heavily, they leant their foreheads together and smiled.

"Better?" he asked, winking.

"Much."

She leant in again, and captured his lips in another kiss, her tongue demanding entrance to his mouth. He happily granted her access, groaning as she arched herself into him, trying to increase their contact. Her hands moved up his chest, tugging on his lapels, pressing their bodies even closer together.

They were utterly lost in one another, until— "Mom! Dad! I did _not_ need to see that!"

Their perfect little moment came to an abrupt end when Stevie walked down the stairs, looking for a glass of water, but finding her parents making out like a pair of hormonal teenagers instead. They broke apart quickly, turning around to face their oldest child, sheepish looks on both their faces. Elizabeth's hair was disheveled, Henry's glasses were askew, and they both blushed furiously at the sight of their daughter.

"Hey honey, what's up?" Elizabeth said as nonchalantly as she could, trying to move past the awkward situation. In reality, she was just adding fuel to the fire.

"We made dinner?" Henry tried, glancing at the sauce simmering on the stovetop. "It'll be ready in a few minutes."

"I'll go get Ali and Jase." Stevie headed back up the stairs to find her siblings, while her parents tried their best to fix their hair and glasses. She shuddered a little at the thought of what she had just seen, but a small part of her was grateful too — that her parents were still so hopelessly in love with one another, even after all they'd been through.

"Well, that was awkward," Henry admitted, turning down the heat on the stove.

"Thank you, Captain obvious, for that piece of information."

…

When everyone came downstairs for dinner, Ali and Jason were the poster children for blissful ignorance, telling their parents about their days. Stevie, however, avoided eye contact with both Elizabeth and Henry, much to the confusion of her younger siblings. She ate her dinner in relative silence, knowing the embarrassment would pass, just not soon enough.

"Dad, you remember Zoey, right?" Alison asked, turning to look at her father who furrowed his brow as he tried to remember which face to put to the name. He gave Alison an apologetic look, and she elaborated. "She's the one who came to that sleepover when Stevie went all crazy political after she'd started hostessing, because her parents are friends with Senator Fletcher."

"Hey, I was not being crazy political! Zoey was misinformed," Stevie snapped, embarrassed and still a little bit mad at the way the Senator had tried to use her to get a hold of her mother, even though it had been so long ago.

"Oh, I remember her," Elizabeth chimed in. "She came by our booth at the carnival!"

"Anyway," Alison continued, "her parents are getting divorced, and her dad's moving to Silicon Valley. She doesn't know where she's gonna live now."

"Well, it's one level of conspiracy or another," Jason remarked, unimpressed. "DC politics or tech insiders, take your pick!"

"Jason!" Ali said, furious, "You're so insensitive!"

"I speak the truth."

"Seriously?!"

They had launched into a full-blown argument by then, and Elizabeth shot Henry a look. He picked up on it immediately, and placed his fingers to his lips, whistling loudly. Alison and Jason snapped out of their debate, whipping their heads around to locate the source of the noise. Elizabeth managed to suppress a smile; the fact that Henry could whistle still made her weak in the knees and she was positive she'd bring it up later, when they had some privacy.

"Enough you two," she chided. "Ali, I'm so sorry about Zoey's parents, I wish there were something we could do to help. And Jason, your input is not the most helpful thing in the world right now, okay?"

"Okay," he admitted, clearly realizing what he'd done. "Sorry."

"Jessie's parents are getting a divorce too," Stevie said, joining the conversation. Jessie had been her roommate at Lovell, and she'd been shocked to hear her parents had separated — they'd always seemed perfect for one another. In truth, they seemed to have a relationship much like that of her own parents, and she found little comfort in the outcome of their marriage. "They were married 20 years, can you believe that?"

"It seems like everyone we know is splitting up," Ali added. "How can you go from loving one another to divorcing after such a long time?"

"I don't know, Noodle," Henry said, trying to reassure his daughters. "Maybe sometimes you realize that what's keeping you together isn't strong enough anymore, that being a couple isn't the best relationship to have with someone. You'll always care, and something will connect you to that person forever, but marriage doesn't have to be that thing."

Elizabeth had reached over to grasp Henry's hand when he spoke, and she held it tight, listening to her husband try to explain the impossible to their children. He glanced over briefly as he spoke, giving her a grateful look. Being physically connected was so important to them, it reassured them the other was _there, alive, and breathing_. After Iran and the bomb, it had become more important than ever.

"Your father's right," Elizabeth added. "You never know how a relationship is going to go, who you'll become further down the road, and what changes will happen. You just have to trust yourself to stay true to what you need, and if that means separating, it's okay."

The children looked at them, a mix of worry and quiet understanding lining their features. Their parents had made sense, being the rational, understanding people they were, but an air of uneasiness lingered. With all they'd gone through recently, who wasn't to say they would head down the same path? Their marriage had been a constant in all the kids' lives, a given, something that defined their family and grounded them all. As annoying as it was sometimes, to have parents who worked as a team, who were still head-over-heels in love, and often showed it, they were grateful for the relationship, and secretly hoped they'd find that kind of love themselves one day. But with everything that had happened?

Alison was the one to break the silence, speaking in a hushed tone and voicing all her siblings' fears. "But you guys," she started, "I mean, you're okay, right?" She posed her question gingerly, not wanting to put the crucial words out into the open.

Henry and Elizabeth looked over at their middle daughter, so strong and even-tempered, making her own path in the world, but right at this moment, just their scared little Noodle. Their hearts broke. When they saw the same fear reflected in their other children, they clutched each other's hands tighter, taking deep breaths. Henry nodded at Elizabeth, and he looked Alison directly in the eyes.

"Noodle, if there's one thing I'm sure of, it's how much I love your mother. And how much I love all of you. I honestly couldn't imagine my world without her. I know it's been stressful lately, and we've all gone through a lot, but your mom and I are working to make sure we talk, and are open with each other, and remind ourselves why we fell in love in the first place. That doesn't mean anything inside this house is changing, okay?"

Alison nodded warily, and looked to her mother for confirmation. "Honey, your dad's right. We've gone through a lot, _all of us_ , but this, Team McCord, is still the most important thing. Nothing's going to happen that will threaten that. And if you're ever scared there is, please talk to us. We don't want any of you worrying." She stood then, and opened her arms to her daughter. "C'mere."

Alison gravitated to her mother's embrace, letting her arms wrap around her, and breathed in the familiar scent. Her parent's embraces were always the place she felt most safe in the world, and she relished in the feeling. Henry stood up now too, and joined in the hug, and pretty soon everyone added to the tangle of limbs. Elizabeth smiled as she and Henry enveloped their children, and held them tightly. She looked at her husband, whose eyes shone with unshed tears. God, how she loved this man.

He caught her staring and smiled, mouthing the word _onions._ She giggled and the kids looked up, confused. The hug broke apart as Elizabeth was going into full-on laughter, and Henry, seeing his wife, joined in. Their children shot them confused glances, clueless as to why their parents were suddenly losing it. Understanding washed over Stevie then, it had to be about dinner, and she couldn't suppress a little smile of her own.

"Mom helped dad cook dinner," she clarified. "Or the other way around, I don't know. I say this with love, mom, but if that's not true love, what is? Cooking with you is, well, _interesting_." Now all the McCords joined in the laughter, and they relished in the family they had, the little bubble they'd made in their house, the crazy, wacky mess that loved one another no matter what.

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 _A/N: Onions, indeed. It's what I'm blaming for my reactions to the past few episodes, if we're being totally honest! I hope you liked this!_


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